Dear Russians,
would you mind not taking Crimea?
This is not the Cold War
nor the time of Imperialism,
so I suggest that you go back
and think empathetically about
the Ukrainians pushing to be
part of the European Union.
You must try to walk a mile in their shoes, understand?
There is no more Soviet Union
or the Iron Curtain,
so you really shouldn't be meddling
in Ukraine's affairs.
Let the revolutions play out and
what will be, will be.

Sincerely,
Wistful Wanderer

In the distance, through the yonder
Comes the Circumstance of Chance
How he longs to find his other
As he stumbles through each dance
Incomplete and in disorder
Yet a smile so often shines
In the deepest of his tortures
Yet, each move becomes sublime
For even in the times
The stumble turns into a fall
He stands until he stumbles once again
As he dreams outside the lines
And finds the laughter in it all
Though sometimes not until the tears have shed

In the distance, through the yonder
One day there will come a glance
Someone stopping so to ponder
On such clumsy elegance
As her loneliness and torture
Start to fade for the first time
For she sees in such disorder
What's been missing all this time
A feeling so devine
And yet, so scary, will enthrall
As broken pieces start to fit again
The glance, returned in kind
As they both begin to fall
The unspoken token setting hearts to mend

In that moment, he'll discover
She's the partner in this dance
Long awaited, for no other
Ever gave him such a glance
And the distance will grow shorter
In between her heart and mine
Such elegant disorder
As our hearts become entwined
And after all the times
We felt alone throughout it all
We'll find that loneliness has met its end
Together, we will find
That we will rise within this fall
Until our hearts are soaring once again

To lie in a bed of daisies
Beneath the sun and moon
To not worry who has come too early
Or gone too soon
To swim on our backs
In rivers of gold
Listen to stories
We've already been told
To tie our curls
In bows of sun
To cleanse our skin
For everyone

To show the world that we made it
The eternity promised has us elated
and here we stand wounded and jaded
But we made it

we made it

Man Naturally loves delay,
And to procrastinate;
Business put off from day to day
Is always done to late.

Let ever hour be in its place
Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,
And well enjoy the vacant space,
As though a birthday gift.

And when the hour arrives, be there,
Where'er that "there" may be;
Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair
Let no one ever see.

If dinner at "half-past" be placed,
At "half-past" then be dressed.
If at a "quarter-past" make haste
To be down with the rest

Better to be before you time,
Than e're to be behind;
To open the door while strikes the chime,
That shows a punctual mind.

Moral:

Let punctuality and care
Seize every flitting hour,
So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,
E'en from a fading flower